


Close Enough to Touch

by LilyEllison



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: A Turducken of Secrets, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Idiots in Love, Into the Ring AU, Mutual Pining, Reporter Karen Page, Secret Identity, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-08-19 04:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20203696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyEllison/pseuds/LilyEllison
Summary: A Season 1 AU in which Matt is (reluctantly) still working at Landman & Zack, and Karen is a reporter at the Bulletin who lives across the hall from him. He needs a serious relationship to impress the partners, she’s trying to get the scoop on his shady firm…and fake dating fun ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful betas, Quietshade and irelandhoneybee, who encouraged me every step of the way on this!

“Page, I needed that earnings report write-up five minutes ago!”

Karen rolled her eyes and finished double-checking the last of the quarterly figures from Union Allied Construction’s latest report. The company had seen explosive growth since landing most of the government contracts for reconstruction in Hell’s Kitchen following the Incident. But that didn’t mean that plugging numbers into her boilerplate copy was any more exciting than usual.

She sent the story to Muthoni through the Bulletin’s filing system, then walked over to her editor’s desk so she could answer the inevitable questions.

“I don’t know why you’re still making me write this,” Karen said. “The AP’s version has been on the wire for 10 minutes. You know they’re having robots do this stuff now?”

“Yeah, and did the automated version mention, like you do, why exactly these numbers are nuts? Any reference to the Avengers in the wire story?”

“No,” Karen sighed.

“So now you know why I’m still making you write this stuff.”

Karen watched over Muthoni’s shoulder as she tightened the story’s lead and a few transitions before double-checking the numbers. Having someone hover would drive Karen crazy, but Muthoni was used to it. Once she’d finished editing and posting the story online, she turned around in her swivel chair.

“You played basketball in high school, right, Karen?”

Karen raised her eyebrows, but she nodded.

“For a business reporter, writing up earnings reports is like practicing free throws. No matter how big of a star you get to be, you gotta pay attention to the basics.”

Karen couldn’t help but laugh. She’d been at the Bulletin for several months, and it was certainly a step up from covering the insurance industry in Hartford, but she was nowhere close to being a star. Her dream was to land a spot on the Bulletin’s investigative team with Ben Urich, but she’d have to make a big splash on the biz desk to get there.

And right now, she was hoping that Union Allied would give her that chance. There had been a very strange document included in the company’s quarterly filing. It wasn’t something she could figure out on the tight deadline required for getting earnings news online, but now that the pressure was off, she was planning to go over it with a fine-tooth comb.

There was no way the company’s pension fund should look like _that_.

* * *

“Mr. Murdock, your 1 o’clock is here.”

Matt ran his fingers over the printout of his calendar, trying to remember which client he had scheduled next. He smiled when he realized there was a very good reason Foggy’s footsteps were approaching his door. They were having lunch today.

To celebrate.

“So, how does it feel, being a partner?” Matt asked as his friend entered.

“Inevitable,” Foggy answered in a mock-haughty tone. “Like the divine right of kings. But don’t worry, I shall rule benevolently.”

“Long live Junior Partner Nelson.” Matt smiled, thrilled for his friend. Foggy had gone through a rough few years and he deserved a good break.

“How about you, buddy? How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, except for the unending drudgery of life as an associate. How quickly you forget.”

Foggy scoffed. “And how about your chronic struggle with, uh, moderate to severe bruising?” he asked more quietly.

Matt cleared his throat. “Um, more on the moderate side today?”

“Great.” His friend was clapping him on the back. “Let’s get some grub. I think I’m officially entitled to at least one three-martini lunch before the reality that my life is about to get even more stressful sets in.”

It was good to spend time with Foggy. It was always good. They chatted about his new job, about wedding planning with his fiancee, Marci, about how his dad was doing. The experimental treatment that Edward Nelson’s condition required had saved his life, but it was still a long road to full recovery. Foggy had been anxious to earn the promotion for a bit more security. The medical expenses had wrecked his family’s finances, and Nelson’s Meats had almost gone under. 

Nelson & Murdock had sunk.

They had been so excited when they set out on their own. They couldn’t have known that Foggy’s dad would get sick, or that they’d be going back to Landman & Zack with their tails between their legs just a year later.

Matt’s own finances were only just recovering. He’d used the last of his dad’s money on his living expenses and on trying to keep the little firm afloat, and like Foggy, he had Columbia Law-sized student loans breathing down his neck.

But Matt wasn’t jealous of Foggy’s promotion. Not really. He was getting by just fine on what he made now — and he was lucky to have gotten a break on his rent thanks to the huge billboard outside his windows. He actually had a savings account again.

But there was one thing Foggy had now that he wanted, and it was permission to take on pro bono work. Partners were allowed to allocate a small but significant portion of their time to non-paying clients, unlike Landman & Zack associates. It was a little thing, but Matt yearned for the chance to help New York’s poorer inhabitants again. With the law, not just with his fists.

“I’m sure it’s just a matter of time, pal,” Foggy said out of nowhere. Matt wondered what expression he had been making to prompt such a pep talk. “You’d probably already be partner if you were late for fewer morning meetings.”

And there was the rub. To help people more, would he have to help people less? He already felt like he had no choice but to remain at L&Z because he needed Foggy to cover for him occasionally. Foggy didn’t like it, but his lingering guilt over the collapse of Nelson & Murdock made him give in. Matt didn’t like taking advantage of _that_, since it wasn’t Foggy’s fault, but he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to keep both of his jobs.

“You know, Landman said something to me…” Foggy’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “It was about Marci. About how he was glad we were getting married because people with families are better bets for the firm. They tend to pop out young’uns and feather their nests. They _need_ their jobs and won’t just pick up and leave.”

“Wait,” Matt said. “Are you telling me that if I want to make partner, I need to _get married_?”

Foggy laughed. “I’m trying to picture the kind of woman who could handle being Mrs. Matthew Murdock. She would have to be a fearsome creature indeed.”

“Thanks, Fog,” Matt said sarcastically, but he couldn’t hold back a grin.

“I’m just saying. Right now, to the partners, you seem like a guy who has a lot of options. You could just pick up and leave for one of the many other firms that have been sniffing around. You just gotta show them you’re in it for the long haul. And having a serious relationship can help with looking the part of a grownup.”

“Not all people are cut out for relationships.”

“I know that and you know that. There’s nothing wrong with taking the solo road, amigo. But you gotta think about the optics. Maybe just _try_ dating someone.”

“You know why I can’t.” Matt bowed his head, his hands tapping nervously against his legs.

“So you’re just never gonna let yourself be happy?”

“You just said there was nothing wrong with being single.”

“There isn’t. _If_ that’s what you want. But you’re not exactly the happiest clam in the sea. All those ladies in law school at least kept a smile on your face,” he said, making Matt smirk just a little. Foggy took a drink, then said thoughtfully, “Don’t you ever think about it? Dating? Maybe even a family someday?”

“Not really,” Matt answered, knowing his heartbeat would have given away his lie if Foggy could have read it.

“Well, then,” Foggy said, brightening, “that makes it easier. You could just pretend. There’s gotta be an app for that. Fake Fiancee Finder or something. Just for long enough to convince the partners that you’re a good bet. Or you could buy your apartment, take on some more delicious debt. They’d gobble that up.”

Matt chuckled ruefully. “If I could afford that, I wouldn’t be—” He cut himself off. “Don’t worry about me, Foggy. There’s no need.”

“Are you kidding? You should have a team of specialists concerned for you 24/7. A fully staffed crisis management firm on speed dial. An entire _ convent _ of nuns praying round the clock for your everlasting soul. You can handle a tiny bit of worry from me.”

“Fine. But I’m not getting married.”

“Whatever you say.”

God bless Foggy. He certainly had some ridiculous ideas sometimes.

* * *

Karen walked up the steps to her apartment, lost in thought about Union Allied. She was 99 percent sure that she had solid evidence of money laundering through the company’s “pension” fund, but she needed to make sure the document was what it appeared to be and not a mistake or theoretical projection. She knew that would be Muthoni’s first question. Especially when she checked the filing online again and discovered the document was no longer there. That seemed to suggest even more strongly that it was incriminating. But unless Karen had someone on the inside to confirm it, she knew Union Allied could make up some kind of cover story. They would certainly lawyer up immediately. Karen had already had a rather unpleasant run-in with one of their attorneys, Marci Stahl of Landman & Zack, on a much less controversial matter.

She was so focused on trying to figure out who she could approach for confirmation who wouldn’t immediately rat her out to the company’s higher-ups that when she stepped onto the sixth-floor landing, she bumped right into the man ahead of her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled distractedly. He turned around and at the sight of his cane and glasses, she winced.

“Shit, Matt, I’m _really_ sorry,” she said quickly. “Are you OK? It’s—”

“Karen, hi,” he said, sounding a bit flustered himself. “I’m fine.”

She blushed, wondering if he recognized her by her klutziness or her voice. It wasn’t his first run-in with either.

Then she looked up and saw him smiling, all boyish and charming, and she blushed even harder, her own grin veering into goofy territory.

He cleared his throat as an awkward silence descended over them. She knew he was about a second from turning around and heading inside his apartment—their interactions were always disappointingly brief.

“Long day at the office?” she blurted. It was relatively late and he was still carrying a briefcase.

“As usual,” he answered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked what you do for a living.”

“Ah, my dirty secret. I’m a lawyer.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She laughed. “A firm I’ve heard of?”

“Probably? Landman and Zack.”

Karen bit her lip. Oh wow. Union Allied’s firm. Maybe Matt could—but she dismissed the thought almost immediately. Though he seemed like a stand-up guy, she didn’t know Matt well enough to trust him with something like this. People tended to get funny when you accused their employers of rampant corruption.

“I take the uncomfortable silence to mean yes?”

“Oh, no. I mean, I have heard of the firm but I’m not—I’m not uncomfortable. My, uh, my mind just wandered for a second.”

_Yes, Karen, make it seem like he’s boring you. Great plan._

“Well, that’s a relief.” He smiled again and her fingers itched to trace the crinkles around his eyes. “I liked the story you wrote yesterday about the new businesses that have started since the Incident.”

“The superhero tourist traps piece? That was a lot of fun. I...I didn’t know you read my stuff.”

“All the time,” he said, in a quiet little way that made her heart skip. He started to turn toward his door. “Well, I should...”

“Of course. Sorry again for bumping into you.”

“Please don’t worry about it.”

It was right at the tip of her tongue — _Matt, would you like to get coffee sometime?_ — but she bit it back. It was better to keep him as a what-if, a maybe-someday. The reality of her would only disappoint him. She was better off alone.

She slid her key into the lock on her door, feeling suddenly cold.

* * *

Matt leaned against his door after he’d closed it. His heart was thumping hard.

He couldn’t believe he’d let himself become so distracted by Karen’s presence on the stairs behind him that she’d actually bumped into him.

He wished he could get to know her better. He thought he could listen to her voice forever. Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming about her, about walking slowly through the neighborhood, hand in hand. He was actually _fantasizing_ about holding her _hand_, like he was back in the sixth grade again. Not that he hadn’t thought about other things, less innocent things. She smelled so damn good, and the way she moved...

But it was all pointless. He could never tell her who he really was. It was no use getting close to people when you could only be half-honest. Foggy had found out about his double life by accident and Matt still worried every day that he had made his best friend a target.

Plus, Karen gave him nothing but mixed signals. She seemed to like him, to be attracted to him even, but her voice was guarded and she always seemed distracted.

So he needed to forget it. He and Karen would just be friendly neighbors and that would be it. He had no excuse to spend more time with her.

Unless...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably a lot about this story that is completely implausible (especially about law firms, lol), but...it's a fake dating AU, so you didn't really sign up for realism, right? :D
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

It was by far the worst idea Matt had ever had. Worse even than putting on a mask and going out to beat up criminals.

So of course he was going to go through with it.

Karen would be the ideal fake girlfriend. The fact that she was his neighbor provided a ready-made backstory, and it would be easy to make it appear they were spending time together at the drop of a hat, if necessary. He knew from their brief interactions and from reading her articles for the Bulletin that she was quick-thinking and perceptive. And she had an impulse for kindness that was utterly genuine.

The reporter thing might raise a few eyebrows, but he’d hardly be the first L&Z attorney to date a journalist. Karen’s stuff was mostly about the local economy and stock IPOs and the like. She did tend toward stories that focused on the plight of the little guy just trying to get by—a big part of why he liked her so much—but those were mixed in with bread-and-butter daily coverage that wouldn’t ruffle feathers.

Matt was sure he could come up with some kind of trade, some way to help her in return. Then, once he made partner, they’d “break up” and go back to just being neighbors.

If he was going to do this, he needed to move quickly, before he lost his nerve. The partners would be holding a reception the following evening to honor Foggy that would be the perfect occasion to debut his relationship.

He got out his phone. He felt slightly shady, but he knew just what to order from the Thai place on the corner to tempt her. He knew she liked the same kind of beer he had in the fridge. He also knew that she favored cherry lip balm and unscented laundry detergent—probably for sensitive skin, given how easily she flushed. He knew it would likely make her uncomfortable, that he’d unintentionally learned so many details, but he couldn’t exactly change the way he navigated the world.

Now that he had a plan in mind, he was getting more nervous. The gnawing in his gut intensified, but his brain kept using his own tricks of logic against him.

Pretending to date his neighbor couldn’t _really_ do that much harm, right?

Maybe he’d find out they were incompatible. That would be good. He could stop all this dreaming about her. And if not, well, a little time with her would be better than none at all, wouldn’t it? Especially if he was right and she wasn’t eager to be in a relationship either. They’d have clear boundaries and an endpoint in sight.

Plus, it was ultimately her decision. He wasn’t going to force her into anything. He’d just lay it all out and get her reaction.

* * *

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Matt was standing on Karen’s doorstep. He’d ordered too much Thai food, he said, offering the extra pad see ew and crab fried rice if she wanted to join him.

Karen was starving, and she’d been brooding about Matt almost as much as about Union Allied since leaving him in the hallway. “That sounds incredible,” she continued. “But are you sure you don’t mind? You could always just keep the leftovers.”

“I’d rather share,” he said in a soft voice that slid right down her spine.

She grabbed her keys and followed.

It was only the second time she’d been inside his apartment, but at least Karen was prepared for the way the billboard washed the whole place in shades of pastel. She still marveled at the fact that her entire studio across the hall would fit easily inside his living room. She turned on the lights at his urging as he gathered plates and silverware and then got two bottles of beer from the fridge.

They chatted a bit more about their jobs as they tucked into the food. Karen felt a subtle kind of contentment steal through her, just being around him. But then Matt took a deep breath and huffed out an awkward half-laugh and her heart began to kick.

“My good friend Foggy just made partner,” he said, “and I’ve been feeling a little…”

“Jealous?” Karen asked, leaning forward.

“No. Well, yes, in a way. Not so much because of the money but because of the control. A little more say in when you’re working and who your clients are. No one really caring if you decide to spend a few hours helping people who really need it at no cost.”

“You want to make partner so you can work for free?” She laughed. He was too good to be true. But for some reason, she believed him.

“I’m not saying the money wouldn’t be nice. But Foggy says I’ll never get promoted if I don’t show the partners that I can be more...stable.”

“Are you not...stable?” Karen cocked an eyebrow.

He breathed out a laugh at the question and turned his head away. “He says I need to be more settled, like with a serious relationship.”

Karen’s heart started beating even more wildly.

“But I’m not really good with any of that, so I’ve been wondering if maybe you could help me.”

She bit her lip.

“If you were willing, I thought maybe you could, uh, attend a few events with me and—”

“What? Pretend to be your girlfriend?” she asked, incredulously.

“Please don’t be offended. It’s just—I thought we could make a deal. You know, I could do something for you in return for your time. Anything you need help with.” He swallowed. “There’s a reception tomorrow night.”

She sat there in total silence, dumbfounded. Then something tiny whispered in her mind: _Union Allied. _This might be an opportunity to meet someone who could help with her story.

“OK,” she said suddenly, her mind whirring through all of the possibilities ahead of her.

“OK? You’re sure?” He seemed almost taken aback.

She thought quickly. “What did you expect me to say, Matt? I owe you my life.”

He made a dismissive noise and shook his head. “Karen, you don’t—”

“I would have walked right in front of that car running the red light if you hadn’t grabbed me, and you know it.” She shook her head. “I still don’t quite understand how you did that.”

“I told you, I’m used to listening at intersections,” he said. “But it was nothing. And I don’t want you to do this because you feel obligated. You need to get something out of it, too.”

She licked her lips, unable to stop her mind from going to inappropriate places. She shook her head, scolding herself internally.

“There’s a photographer at work. Tom. He shoots a lot of my assignments. I think he might want to ask me out.” She wasn’t lying, even if it wasn’t her _actual_ motive for accepting. Tom was a nice guy, but not really her type. “If I turn him down, that might make things weird. But he’s one of the best photogs at the Bulletin, and good photos are important to drawing in readers.”

“So you want me to…?”

“I don’t know. Send flowers to my desk, maybe? Show up at a Bulletin happy hour?”

“You’re saying you want a fake boyfriend.” Matt aimed the sexiest little smirk her way, and for a moment, she found it hard to breathe.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she said finally, pushing her hair back from her face and smiling.

His smirk blossomed into a grin, and she had a sudden flash of memory of the first time she’d been in this apartment. She’d baked him her grandmother’s famous double chocolate chip cookies after the close call with the red-light runner. She ended up asking him (probably too personal) questions about his blindness, and he told her how he wished he could see the sky again, before turning the conversation decidedly away from himself. She’d seen that same smile on his face that night, looking like something magic in the flickering violet light.

Her heart had gone out to him then, and she thought he’d been holding onto a piece of it ever since.

But she shouldn’t be thinking about that. This was going to be pretend. Fake. False. Phony.

This was mostly about Union Allied, and a little bit about helping Matt because he was the kind of guy who wanted to get a promotion so he could help other people, and definitely not at all about her heart.

* * *

Karen still had questions. Of course she did. She was a reporter, after all. She asked them for a living.

Matt tried not to be too distracted by the cascade of deliciousness that washed over him when she tossed her hair, or the way she was now sitting on his couch with her legs tucked up, or the fact that she had _said yes_.

Her first question was the obvious one. “Wouldn’t it be better to look for a new job? Something that’s closer to what you really want to do?”

So he told her, as briefly as possible, about the total flameout of his attempt to do just that.

He thought it would be followed by the next most obvious question: Why not date someone for real? But she didn’t ask it. Maybe his “relationship disaster” vibes were just that strong.

Instead, her heart fluttered a bit nervously as she said, “If you read my work, you know which companies I cover. Do you represent any of them?”

“No. Nothing that high-profile for me,” he answered. Matt knew he had an impressive track record, but his clients weren’t likely to be part of Karen’s beat. Still, that reminded him...

“You’ll agree not to write about this, right?”

She shrugged. “If you’re not going to sue, I don’t have much of an angle. Unless you think this qualifies as discrimination based on your blindness.”

“No, nothing like that,” he said. He’d had his issues with the firm at times, but it was pretty by-the-book. At least where employment law was concerned.

“Um, I don’t mean to pry,” Karen said hesitantly, “but I’m sure you know that in New York, it’s also illegal to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation. If this is about a certain _kind_ of relationship...”

Matt smiled. “I don’t think they’d care who I’m with exactly. The point is just to look commitment-worthy. And unfortunately for you, the only guy I could ask to pretend to date me is already engaged.”

“Ah. The aforementioned Foggy?” she said with amusement.

“A nickname,” he explained. “It’s Franklin, actually. Franklin Nelson.”

“I think I like the sound of Foggy.” She let out a wistful breath. “Nelson and Murdock, huh? It has a nice ring to it.”

Matt’s chest gave a little ache. “It really did.”

Matt found himself replaying it in his mind hours later, as he perched on a rooftop far above the streets of Hell’s Kitchen — the way Karen’s voice sounded in the shape of their old firm’s name, smooth and almost familiar.

It made him think about Foggy and their lunch and how quickly his completely harebrained scheme had come together. Foggy would be absolutely thrilled to hear about it tomorrow. And even more thrilled to actually get to meet Karen at his reception.

Then a sound from somewhere below caught Matt’s attention and he focused in.

It was a man’s voice — a strangled shout of surprise that gave way to a stream of pleading. _No don’t please my family I won’t tell I promise it was a mistake it was just a mistake please_. Followed by the unmistakable noise of something very hard connecting with soft tissue.

The man in the mask had already swung into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter fics are not my usual thing, but I'd like to get better, so I appreciate you sticking with me!


	3. Chapter 3

Karen was up early. Well, really, she’d hardly slept, not with so much churning through her brain. She started checking The Times and The Globe before she even got out of bed, refreshing and refreshing for possible Union Allied news, her stomach in knots.

She thought there was a pretty big chance that she’d get scooped by a reporter with better connections. But there was nothing new. She kept checking every few minutes as she showered and dressed and headed to work. She checked her phone at street corners as she walked — though she was more careful about stepping into the crosswalk these days, no matter what the light said.

As she entered the Bulletin’s offices, she started to wonder. Was it possible she had been the only one to download the document before it was removed? Or was the whole thing just a mistake after all?

She was distracted from her relentless anxiety when she reached her desk. Her mouth fell open at the riot of red that greeted her eyes. Her fake boyfriend had somehow already had flowers delivered — a beautiful bouquet of tulips. What an overachiever.

She touched the card in its little plastic holder. _Thank you for a wonderful evening. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Love, Matt._

Dammit, she shouldn’t be getting all trembly at that “love.” It wasn’t real and she couldn’t want it to be real. Not without screwing everything up. Either Matt didn’t have feelings for her or he just didn’t do relationships. She could hardly blame him, thinking of the times she had reined in her own impulse to ask him out. He probably had his reasons, just the way she did. It hurt — a sharp little knife of longing whenever she thought about it — but it was useless to torture herself.

Ever since the Incident, since Karen had learned the impossible was actually quite possible, she had sometimes wondered if there was another Karen out there, on another world. A Karen who still had a family. A Karen who hadn’t killed her baby brother. Maybe that Karen was Matt Murdock’s girlfriend for real. Maybe that Karen was happy.

But this Karen needed to get back to her work. She grabbed her empty mug and headed for the kitchen off the newsroom. Today was definitely a day to mainline caffeine.

"Hey, Karen." Habiba, the crime reporter who covered the overnight shift, was standing at the sink, despite the fact that she should have been off duty a couple of hours ago.

"God, what are you still doing here?"

"I just finished filing a story,” Habiba said, rinsing her own mug. “Took a while to get the cops to cough up the details, but the Devil struck again last night."

"Really?" Karen said excitedly. Habiba shared her enthusiasm for the exploits of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He'd definitely made Habiba's job more interesting. Karen was just glad to see someone making a difference in her neighborhood, even if his methods were less than legal.

"You might actually get a piece of this one, too."

"What? Why?"

"The guy he saved worked for Union Allied Construction. You cover them, right? He's the deputy CFO. Daniel Fisher."

Oh no. _Shit shit shit_. "Is he OK?"

"He's in critical at Metro-General, so it's still iffy. But the cops say he would have been killed if the Devil hadn't been there."

This had to be connected. A compromising financial document had ended up online, then it had disappeared, and one of the company's financial execs had been attacked?

"Jeremy's working on the follow-up," Habiba continued. "NYPD is still investigating. If you have any background on Fisher, I'm sure Jeremy would appreciate it."

"OK, got it," Karen said. She rushed back to her desk, coffee forgotten.

This had gotten very real very quickly. If Union Allied was willing to kill to protect its secrets...?

She'd gotten in the habit of using basic tech security when she was investigating insurance industry corruption back in Hartford, so she didn't think her download would be traceable, and she'd stored the document securely and definitely not on her work laptop. But still.

She needed Daniel Fisher to confirm the document was real. To anyone else, this would look like coincidence — a mistake in the filing, a random mugging. But she knew in her gut this wasn't chance.

She should tell someone now. Muthoni or Ben or Ellison, the investigations editor. But she couldn't. Right now the only person who might be in danger was her. If she confided in anyone else, they could become targets, too. And she couldn't be responsible for anyone getting hurt. Not again. She could only tell them once she had the proof she needed to immediately make the story public.

And there was only one way to get it that she could think of right now.

She took the card out of Matt's bouquet. She ran her fingers over it, hesitating, before forcing herself to toss it into the trash can below her desk.

Then she grabbed the flowers and headed to the hospital.

* * *

"You actually listened to me?” Foggy feigned shock. Or maybe the shock was real. “I feel like we should order a commemorative plaque. A historical marker, if you will."

Matt was sitting in his office with the door closed, holding the ice pack Foggy had brought him over the bruise on his cheek. One of the thugs who had attacked that businessman in the alley had landed a way-too-decent punch. But what actually hurt was that Matt hadn’t gotten to the man before he was seriously injured. Matt could only pray he would recover.

Foggy had been winding up for one of his frequent lectures after seeing Matt’s face, but Matt wasn’t in the mood to hear it. He felt sick enough already. Luckily, it had been easy to distract Foggy with news of the deal he had made with Karen.

“This is Karen of the chocolate chip cookies, right?”

Matt smiled. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Double chocolate heaven? I could never forget that kind of flavor. I can already tell she’s a keeper.”

“Well, I won’t be keeping her, Fog,” Matt said irritably. “That’s kind of the point.”

“Ouch, my dude. That’s cold.”

“I’m not saying she’s not keepable. She’s very…” He sighed.

“Oh no,” Foggy groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Oh, Matt, you did _not_. You did not agree to fake-date a woman you have feelings for! That’s never gonna end well!”

“I don’t…” Matt started half-heartedly, but he couldn’t finish.

“So everything you said yesterday was pure, unadulterated horseshit, huh? You have a thing for neighbor Karen and you haven’t been able to get your head out of your ass long enough to ask her out for real.”

Matt didn’t move, even though the ice pack had shifted from unpleasant though tolerable to full-on burning against his skin.

“You know this will probably screw up any chance you actually had with her, right?” Foggy said resignedly.

Matt let the pain flare for a few more seconds before finally pulling the ice away from his cheek.

“Good thing there was never any chance, then.”

* * *

Karen wasn’t sure exactly what she had been expecting when she made her way up to Daniel Fisher’s room at Metro-General. But she definitely hadn’t been counting on the security.

There was a uniformed police officer stationed at the door, and two hulking men in dark suits in the hallway who looked like private security as well. She wondered if they were there to guard Fisher or Union Allied’s secrets.

One of them turned her way and she lifted Matt’s flowers high enough to hide her face, trying to seem as casual as possible. She walked quickly in the other direction, almost bumping into a woman in blue scrubs.

“Can I help you?” she said at Karen’s obviously flustered expression.

“Oh, um, I was hoping to see Daniel Fisher,” she said quietly. “Is he awake?”

“Are you family?”

“No...we—we work together,” Karen said. Well, she was hoping they would very soon be working together to take down his corrupt employer, anyway. And she was worried mentioning her name or the Bulletin might catch the interest of the security detail.

“Then I’m afraid I can’t share any information about his condition. They’re not even letting family in to see him yet, so you’ll have to wait.”

“Thank you,” Karen said, distracted by the buzzing of her phone. She ducked down the hall into an empty room. It was Muthoni, her editor, wondering where she was. “Following a lead,” she typed back.

But she wasn’t going to get very far with a source who was heavily guarded and likely still unconscious. She tapped a few buttons and was pleased when Habiba’s tired voice answered her call right away.

“I’m sorry to bug you. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I just got home. What’s up?”

“I was hoping you could help me. I know you’ve said there’s a nurse at Metro-General who helps you out sometimes. Someone you can trust.”

“Is this for the Fisher story? Is Jeremy slacking again?” Habiba’s voice grew animated. “He should be getting updates from the hospital. Don’t let him push his work off onto you.”

“It’s OK. It’s something I’m doing on my own. Something I’m curious about.”

“All right, but if you’re covering for Jeremy, just remember that you’re contributing to the problem.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Karen laughed. “So, can you give me the name?”

“Oh, sure, yeah. It’s Claire. Claire Temple.”

* * *

Matt was growing increasingly nervous as the time for Foggy’s reception drew near. The swelling on his cheek had gone down some, but he knew it would probably attract comments all evening — something he was not looking forward to, especially with Karen there.

He was already planning to lie about his relationship. Now he would be lying about his injury as well. Was there anything in his life that wasn’t a lie anymore?

He kept checking the Bulletin’s website for updates about the man who had been attacked. Around midday, an article had appeared with Karen’s byline that gave a few biographical details. Not much — the family wasn’t talking — but a little background on Daniel Fisher’s career, with mention of his wife and little boy. Matt wondered what could have made the mid-level executive a target.

He’d managed to pass along information to the police that it had been a hit job, based on what he’d overheard before the attack started. He hoped that they would take his tip seriously. Daniel Fisher’s life was probably still in danger.

He knew Marci worked on Union Allied’s legal team at L&Z. Maybe he should ask her if she knew anything. But he’d need to come up with a reason — he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to the suggestion that there was something shady going on with one of her accounts. There was probably something shady going on with every high-profile L&Z client, but nobody liked to talk about that. Still, professional hits were on a whole different level from clever tax loopholes and misused technicalities that kept the rich getting richer.

Just thinking about it made Matt’s longing for the Nelson & Murdock days stab him right in the chest.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it for long before he heard his assistant’s voice. “There’s a Ms. Page waiting downstairs for you, Mr. Murdock.”

He put his jacket back on, adjusted his tie and patted his hair anxiously.

It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope Daniel Fisher's job change wasn't too confusing! But it's a promotion for him, and he's still alive ... for now, anyway ... so something of an improvement? (I'm sure Union Allied still has an in-house legal team, but they also need the assistance of outside counsel because of all the litigation that comes from being a bad, bad company. And obviously, someone from the financial department would better trip Karen's alarm bells.)
> 
> This is where I remind you that it's a fake dating AU, lol...
> 
> Speaking of which, there will be actual fake dating in the next chapter! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for ableism from a party-goer and a brief mention of catcalling.

Karen tilted her head up and looked around as she waited for Matt. The expansive Landman & Zack lobby was all light and air, with two walls made of glass and two of pale gray stone. It was impressive.

But much less impressive than the man who left the elevator and began striding in her direction, barely using his cane, with a million-dollar smile spreading over his face. Karen’s fake boyfriend was beautiful.

“Hi, Matt,” she said to help him locate her as he got closer to where she had been asked to wait. He reached his hand out toward her and she let him squeeze hers.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” she said, but the words came out more hesitantly than she’d intended. While it had seemed like a great idea before the attack on Daniel Fisher, Karen was no longer sure she should be spending her time at L&Z. Not when it was obvious that her best chance of breaking the Union Allied story was lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

After a lot of back and forth about medical privacy, Claire Temple had finally agreed to text Karen’s burner phone when Fisher woke up. But Karen was nervous about drawing more suspicion before that happened. Asking a bunch of questions, especially around the firm’s higher-ups, was probably out. But she couldn’t bail on Matt. And she couldn’t just waste whatever opportunity she might still find here, either. She’d just have to poke around discreetly, in the hopes of finding something, anything, that could be useful.

Matt looked a little taken aback at her tone, but she was distracted from his reaction when he turned slightly and she took in the bruise staining the side of his face.

“Are you OK?” she said quickly.

“Oh.” He chuckled hollowly, touching the spot lightly and maybe a little nervously. “It’s nothing. Angry door.”

“A door hauled off and punched you?” she asked pointedly.

He laughed, genuinely this time. “Let that be a warning to you. I’m the kind of man who can really piss off a door.”

Karen let out an amused huff, but her eyebrows knitted together. Before she could come up with the right follow-up question, he was holding his arm out to her.

“Shall we?”

She took it, deciding to leave the questions for another time. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his injury, and her job tonight was to be the perfect girlfriend (slash-spy, she couldn’t help adding in her head). It was time to get to Foggy’s party.

When their elevator opened many floors above, Karen realized the L&Z lobby was for amateurs. The rooftop terrace took her breath away.

“Wow,” she murmured, looking at the twinkling lights, the landscaping, the sunset.

“One of the perks of working here,” Matt said softly. “I’ve been told the views are spectacular.”

“Well, that was an understatement,” she said, pulling him toward the edge to look over at the city sprawled around them, glowing golden like a jewelry counter. “Holy shit.”

“Nice sunset?”

“It’s amazing,” she said. “It’s all pink and orange, like sherbet. Actually, it looks just the way sherbet tastes, sweet and creamy and light.”

Matt laughed delightedly at her enthusiasm and she flushed. He leaned his head in close to hers. “Ready for this?” he asked in her ear.

She nodded without thinking, but he was near enough to discern the movement. She was suddenly feeling underprepared. The way his breath tickled her skin, the way his voice curled through her — it made her realize they hadn’t really negotiated the physical stuff. How much touching was OK? Would he suddenly kiss her in the middle of the party? She bit her lip at the rush of anticipation she felt at the thought.

They had gone over a few details the night before — the people who Matt would likely have mentioned if they were actually dating, a few other basic biographical details. (She had known about the accident and his father’s death, but he’d told her, in a halting, tight-lipped way, that he’d spent years in an orphanage before attending Columbia. She was, if anything, even more reticent about her own past, giving him only the bare minimum. Vermont. Small town. Newspaper gigs.)

They walked away from the edge of the roof, joining the throng of people gathering around the tables that had been set up in the center. The hum of voices and music and tinkling glasses surrounded them.

Karen survived a round of brief introductions — though the first time Matt said, easily, naturally, “This is my girlfriend, Karen,” her heart dropped into her stomach — and then Matt took a few steps away to get them drinks. She scanned the crowd, looking for anyone she might recognize, anything that could be useful.

“Karen Page?” a voice said beside her. “Franklin, I didn’t know you invited the press.”

Karen turned to see Marci Stahl and a vaguely familiar, slick-haired man who could only be Foggy Nelson.

“Karen’s off duty, Marce. She’s, uh, dating Matt. Hi again, Karen,” he said apologetically.

Karen was impressed at how he’d jumped in to smooth things over. She opened her mouth to return Foggy’s greeting, but Marci spoke first.

“Huh,” she said, her eyebrows lifting. “Someone actually stuck around for a second helping?”

“What an incredibly tactful thing to say.” Foggy’s expression was exasperated, but Karen just laughed.

“Sounds like you have stories I need to hear,” she said. “Good to see you again, Ms. Stahl.”

“Oh, god. Marci, please.”

Karen smiled and Foggy pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he said under his breath. “She had a bad day with a client.” Karen liked him already.

“So, I hear this party is in your honor,” she said, when Foggy moved back. “Congratulations.”

Just then, Matt reappeared, holding two flutes of champagne. Karen started sipping hers immediately.

“Why haven’t I heard about this before?” Marci asked Matt, gesturing to Karen as if that was helpful.

“This?” Matt said, his hackles clearly rising. It was obvious the two of them didn’t really get along.

“We didn’t want to make a big deal of it until we got more serious,” Karen said quickly, linking her arm through Matt’s.

Marci looked skeptical, but the crowd had noticed Foggy’s arrival by now and he was being congratulated from all sides. He and Marci got swallowed up by the sea of well-wishers.

“Well-played, Ms. Page,” Matt said quietly, tilting his head close to hers again. She swallowed, trying to remind herself why she had agreed to attend this party in the first place.

But before she tried to slip away from the crowd, Karen figured she owed Matt a decent amount of solid girlfriend time, so she threw herself into the job, chatting inanely to everyone he introduced her to and doing her best to talk him up without being too obvious. The goal was to get him an offer to be partner, and she figured every little bit helped.

She tried to keep that in mind as she got cornered by Mrs. Landman, the wife of one of the founding partners, who turned out to be a crushing bore. Karen looked subtly for Matt over the woman’s shoulder, wishing she had some way to signal him to rescue her.

“Well, I’m so glad that Matt Murdock has finally found a nice girl,” Mrs. Landman was saying. “But I have to say, it does seem like a bit of a shame, dear. You’re so lovely and he can’t even see you to appreciate it.”

Karen’s mouth dropped open. Her brain was floundering for something to say when she felt an arm slide around her waist.

“Believe me, Mrs. Landman, I very much appreciate Karen’s loveliness,” Matt said smoothly.

Karen smiled innocently. “I’ve never felt more...appreciated,” she said, letting her tone dip suggestively. Matt’s hand tightened on her hip, making her tingle.

“Oh, um, well,” Mrs. Landman spluttered, clearly embarrassed.

“Will you excuse us, please?” Matt said. “I think the man of the hour was looking for us.” He tugged Karen away.

Karen knew she was red all over. She hated that Matt had overheard and that he’d felt the need to step in himself.

“People say shit like that all the time, don’t they?” she muttered angrily to him. “And probably much worse. God, I’d feel the need to hit things on the regular.”

Matt laughed. “Don’t you already?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not really the same, but I’m sure you get tired of comments about how you look, too. Fran from down the hall has made sure to tell me how pretty the blonde in 6B is so many times I’ve lost count. I can only imagine the reaction you get on the street.”

Karen groaned, thinking about some of the catcalls she’d endured since moving to New York. “Ugh, people are shitty.”

“They do shitty things, yes,” Matt said. “But people are mostly worth caring about.”

He sounded so sincere she wanted to hug him. How could he be so good? She realized she was looking at him with an adoring smile — one that would probably go a long way toward convincing anyone on the roof that she was in love with him.

As soon as she had the thought, her smile faded.

* * *

Despite the misgivings he’d had going into the evening, Matt had to admit he was enjoying himself for the most part. He caught himself smiling more with Karen around. He was used to these events being stilted, yawn-worthy affairs, and really this one was no different, but having her next to him made everything seem as effervescent as the champagne they were drinking.

And he wasn’t the only one reacting to Karen’s presence — he’d heard the elevated heartbeats, the various versions of “Who’s the babe with Murdock?”

But Karen was so much more than her appearance, and the only reaction he’d been truly interested in was Foggy’s.

Foggy _really_ liked Karen.

“I know Marci can be a bit much sometimes” — Matt stifled a laugh — “but Karen didn’t bat an eye,” Foggy whispered when they got a couple of minutes together on the edge of the party. “She’s also an excellent hugger. And the way she looks at you, pal? Well, let’s just say she’s a hell of an actress if she’s faking that.”

Matt couldn’t hold back a grin. Foggy wasn’t lying. And there was something in Karen’s voice tonight, something that told him that maybe—

“Are you sure you couldn’t just tell her? About the other thing?” Foggy whispered.

And it was like a pin popping a balloon. Matt instantly deflated. He was letting himself get carried away by the evening and the sound of her voice and the way her pulse jumped when they touched. He’d even forgotten about the goal of making partner while embarrassing Mrs. Landman, though he didn’t actually regret that.

He’d heard enough of those kinds of comments that it didn’t particularly sting — he usually just filtered them out. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still piss him off. Karen was more right than she knew about the way he usually vented those frustrations. But he couldn’t exactly let on.

Still, his nighttime activities were exactly what he needed to be focused on. The party would be over soon, and then he needed to get out on the street and continue investigating whatever was going on with Union Allied Construction. This was not the time to allow himself to be distracted. He would make sure to introduce Karen to a few more key players, just to ensure he hadn’t wasted her time, and then they would take their leave.

There was only one problem. Matt didn’t know where Karen was. She had been close by when Foggy pulled him aside just a few moments ago, but now he couldn’t sense her anywhere in the vicinity.

He took a few steps away from the crowd and focused. Karen should be easy to pick out, even in a throng of people. Her heartbeat was intensely familiar and she, quite literally, smelled like home.

But Karen was nowhere on the roof.

Karen was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early since I have a busy weekend coming up!

Karen checked the note she had made in her phone and then deleted it. Marci Stahl’s office was on the 17th floor, in Suite G. Conveniently, so was Matt’s. Trying to see where her “boyfriend” worked all day would have to be her cover story if anyone came by.

As she entered the suite of offices, she was glad to find it empty. She had been banking on the idea that L&Z employees who worked near Matt and Marci would be more likely to attend Foggy’s party. She had no clue if Marci would actually have any Union Allied documents in her office, but it was the only place she could think of to start. If nothing else, she was hoping to find the names of other people who might know what was going on.

She figured she had about 10 more minutes before Matt realized she was missing from the party, and another 10 before he would start to suspect that she wasn’t just in the bathroom. So she had to make this very quick.

She used a tissue to turn the handle of Marci’s office door.

Unlocked.

* * *

Matt was already heading for the stairwell.

Karen was definitely not among the revelers on the roof. But there were plenty of hearts beating on the floors below. Landman & Zack was not the kind of place where people went home early, and time away for Foggy’s party would definitely be a luxury that some associates could not afford, even if it meant sacrificing potential facetime with partners.

Still, most of Foggy’s closest co-workers had shown up, so Suite G on the 17th floor should be a ghost town. But if Matt focused, he could tell there was someone moving around down there.

All signs pointed to it being Karen.

What the hell was she doing?

He tried to think of an innocent explanation as he raced down the stairs, bypassing the elevators that would be crowded as people started to leave the party. With each floor, he grew more certain that Karen was poking around in one of the offices, her heartbeat rabbiting anxiously.

Nothing with an innocent explanation would make her that nervous.

He slowed down when he emerged from the stairwell into the hallway. Karen was definitely in Marci’s office, which made absolutely no sense. But if he burst in breathing heavy, having run down several flights, Karen would be just as suspicious of him as he was of her right now.

He caught his breath as he took careful, stealthy steps toward her. She was rustling through a filing cabinet, though he could tell she was trying to be quiet. Someone else walking through this hallway might not have been able to hear her at all.

And she certainly did not hear him, because she jumped and stifled a cry when he pushed open the office door.

“Matt!” she hissed. He heard the papers whisper back into place and the filing cabinet _chunk_ closed. She moved toward him. “How—? Did you follow me?” she asked accusingly.

“Let’s take a step back. You’re the one in my co-worker’s office. What do you think you’re doing?”

“I, uh—” she faltered.

But Matt’s attentions were pulled away by the ding of the elevator, too far away for Karen to hear. Footsteps were approaching rapidly and in a set of cadences he would recognize anywhere. 

“—trying to ruin your party, Foggy Bear, but this is serious. He almost died and—“

Shit shit _shit_. Marci’s reaction to finding Karen poking around her office would be explosive. She’d probably call the police. And despite whatever Karen was up to, Matt already felt a strong instinct to protect her. If they tried to leave the office now, they would surely be in plain sight. He could think of only one way out of this. And Karen might not be thrilled about it.

“Quick,” he whispered, holding his hand out to her. When she took it, he pulled her close to him in the office doorway.

“That’s weird,” Marci said, clearly spotting her open office door from down the hallway. Karen went rigid, her heart thump-thump-thumping through his entire body.

“Kiss me,” he said in a very low voice, right in Karen’s ear. He heard her inhale shakily, but then in a rush, she pressed her warm lips to his, her hand clutching at his shirt.

He immediately intensified the kiss — the aim here was to put on a good show, after all — and Karen let out a soft “oh” of surprise as he leaned in and guided her back against the door frame for support. Her hand slid up to his neck as he moved his lips against her tantalizingly soft ones. All the stiffness faded from her body and his pulse raced at the way she melted into him, her heavenly scent curling around him.

He held her chin with his fingers as he kissed her more passionately, feeling tiny little shivers go through them both. He was so wrapped up in the exhilarating combination of sensations that made up Karen Page that he didn’t have to fake the way he startled when he heard Marci’s voice.

“Jesus, Murdock, you could at least save the shenanigans for your own office.”

Matt broke away from Karen, trying to look guilty. “Uh, is this not my office?” He chuckled. “Karen, you could have told me.”

“Oh, gosh,” she said, and he could hear the trace of genuine amusement in her voice. “I guess I got caught up in the moment.”

The flush rising up her chest and neck was incredibly real, and Matt found himself reaching out for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “We’ll just get out of your way,” he said.

“Gee, thanks,” Marci responded tartly.

“Aww, c’mon,” Foggy said, joining the coverup without even knowing the crime. “It’s puppy love. Don’t you remember when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other?” Foggy put his arm around Marci. “You know, about 12 hours ago? When we were in b—”

“Ah, as I was saying,” Matt interrupted, “we’ll just be going now. Great party tonight, Fog.” He patted his friend on the arm as he moved past him, tugging Karen along with him by the hand.

“Lovely to see you both again!” she called over her shoulder.

They waited until the elevator door closed before they collapsed into laughter.

“Thank you,” Karen said seriously when they had calmed down. 

Matt licked his lips nervously and was momentarily distracted by the traces of Karen that lingered there. He would like nothing better than to press her against the wall of the elevator and continue where they left off.

But that wasn’t going to happen — they were on a fake date and the kisses were doubly fake, he reminded himself. And what he and Karen really needed to continue was the conversation they were beginning when Marci and Foggy appeared.

“We still need to talk,” he said, his voice coming out colder than he felt.

“I know.” She ran a hand through her hair and he breathed in deeply. “At home, or—?”

And it made his heart swell a bit, to think of home being the same place for them both. He knew he should be upset with her for whatever snooping she had been doing, but his growing affection was winning out. Back home, in an intimate setting, it would only get worse, he knew. They needed more neutral ground.

“You know, I could really go for a drink,” he said.

* * *

They ended up heading for a bar Matt knew a few blocks away. Karen wasn’t sure where Matt’s cane was — probably left behind on the roof, if she had to guess — but she certainly didn’t mind his hand snug in the crook of her arm for the walk over.

They were mostly quiet, not wanting to get into whatever this discussion was going to lead to on the street, especially when there might be other L&Z employees around. She wondered what he was thinking about. He didn’t seem too angry, but maybe he was just saving it up. Maybe he thought she’d actually have a reasonable explanation for snooping in his co-worker’s office after he’d gotten her through the building’s security for a party where she was supposed to be helping him make a good impression.

She tried for a good block or so to come up with one, but in the end she decided she owed him the truth — or at least as much of it as she could tell without endangering both of them.

The bar was a small, kind of divey place where the music was loud enough to mask their conversation but not so loud it was impossible to talk at all. Matt ordered scotch, while Karen went for Irish whiskey. They sat across from each other in a tiny booth, a charge of nervousness and something more in the air.

“I’m sorry,” Karen said finally, at the same time Matt said, “Will you explain?”

She smiled, now that the ice was broken. “Hey, you’re the one who decided to pretend to date a wannabe investigative reporter.”

He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “What were you looking for?”

Karen let out a long breath and sat back. “Did you hear about that guy who got saved by the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen last night? He worked for Union Allied. And I know Marci handles some work for them and I guess I thought maybe I’d get a lead?”

“You know it’s extremely illegal.”

“I know. Not to mention what it would do to your reputation if somebody else had caught me.” She sipped her drink. “I guess I was feeling a little inspired by the Devil. Is vigilante reporting a thing?”

And she knew she was in the clear with him because he had to suppress a smile at that.

Still, he wasn’t letting her completely off the hook just yet. “How do you know it wasn’t a random mugging? Your story didn’t say anything connecting the assault to the company.”

“The police are saying off the record that it looks like a hit. But no one knows why.”

That wasn’t technically a lie. Until Daniel Fisher woke up, she could only be, like, 98 percent sure it was the pension document that had led to all this. And anyway, it was worth lying if it kept Matt safe. She was already imperiling his career. The last thing she wanted was to put his life in jeopardy, though even talking about this at all was probably risky.

“What did you find in Marci’s office?” he asked.

“What? I didn’t—”

“Karen,” he said sternly, like he knew somehow that she was about to bend the truth again. A fancy lawyer trick, probably.

“As I was saying, I didn’t _really_ find anything,” she continued. “But there were definitely Union Allied financial documents in there, and my hunch is that they’re shady.” She bit her lip, then continued, more sadly, “Do you think Marci would deliberately cover up something illegal?”

“No,” Matt said immediately. “Marci’s a shark, but she has a good heart. Foggy wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise.”

“Hmm,” Karen said. It went against her own impression of Marci Stahl, but she decided to believe Matt.

“Let me talk to her in the morning. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“I don’t know. Should you really—”

“You realize it’s going to be a big problem for my firm if it turns out one of our clients is in this deep,” Matt said.

Karen had a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach. Matt was now way more involved than she’d wanted him to be. But he was right — it was in his best interest to try to prevent his firm from getting caught up in a scandal. And if Daniel Fisher didn’t wake up soon, she was going to need a different way to substantiate her story.

Their drinks were almost gone.

“Can I ask a question?” When he lifted his chin, she continued, “How did you find me so quickly?”

He shrugged. “Someone told me my date was escaping in the elevator.”

His tone of voice sounded an awful lot like earlier in the night, when he had given her the poor excuse for the bruise on his face. But what reason would he have to lie? And what other possible explanation could there be?

She brushed the questions away. Instead she asked another. “Are you going to fire me as your girlfriend? I know I deserve it.”

He choked a little on his last sip of scotch. “Well, except for the...indiscretion...at the end of the evening, you were quite a success, so I don’t think I’ll make any hasty decisions.”

Her stomach fluttered. “Oh no?”

“Maybe we should wait a while before another party at the office, though.”

She laughed and decided to push her luck. “Did I forfeit my end of the bargain? Because there’s a Bulletin happy hour tomorrow and I know Tom the photographer will be there.”

“I think I can make that work.” His voice was quiet, and she remembered the way it sounded in her ear when he told her to kiss him.

She stood up abruptly. “We should probably get going.”

For the first time since they’d arrived, she looked out the window. It was raining. Neither of them had an umbrella. Matt offered to go out and hail a cab while Karen waited inside, but she didn’t like the sound of that plan. 

"We’ll go together," she said.

They got incredibly, mind-bendingly lucky. A cab stopped to drop off a fare and they were able to clamber inside. It had only been a few minutes, but they were soaked.

Karen giggled out their address to the driver and tried to catch her breath as she smiled in Matt's direction. His expression grew disarmingly intent as he focused on her and the world receded like a wave. Karen swallowed, thinking of the warm press of his mouth against hers in Marci’s office. It would be so easy to close the distance, to...

The tickle of raindrops dripping from her hair onto her arms distracted her from her thoughts. She watched, fascinated, as Matt reached out with a finger to skim over her wet skin, leaving a trail of fire as he moved slowly toward her shoulder.

She closed her eyes, riding out the wave of want that flooded her body.

"You're freezing," he whispered.

And she was, but that wasn't why she was shivering.

His hand fell away and he shrugged out of his sopping jacket. "I'm not quite as wet underneath," he said, opening his arms to her.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," she sputtered, though she wanted more than anything to tuck herself against him. Well, truth be told, what she really wanted was to be kissing him again, but that wasn't going to happen.

"Karen," he said, "c’mere."

And she was lost.

For once, she was grateful for the way the rain inevitably worsened the snarl of New York City traffic. Every block they crept along with her head pressed against Matt's shoulder offered long, precious minutes of bliss.

She was too rapt to speak, afraid to even move for fear of shattering the magic that had descended around them. 

Nothing about this felt fake at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to anyone who is still sticking with me on this! <3


	6. Chapter 6

Matt fiddled with the place setting in front of him, waiting for Marci to appear. He’d spent much more of the night in the mask than in his bed, so he should be exhausted — not to mention frustrated at his inability to turn up anything new in the Union Allied case on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen — but instead he caught himself smiling.

Smiling because he was thinking of Karen. His mind kept revisiting the same sensations over and over — how it felt to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, to spend long minutes just listening to her heartbeat and breathing in the scent of her hair. How it felt when she talked about being inspired by the Devil, excitement underscoring every word.

For the first time, he was wondering what it would be like to take Foggy’s advice seriously and actually tell her.

To say the words, _I’m the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen_. To say the words, _I think I’m falling in love with you_.

Before he could even begin to contemplate Karen’s reaction, he sensed the approach of a determined stride and the thudding of the steadiest heartbeat he knew. Marci was about two doors down from the restaurant, ready to crash into his morning with her typical hurricane force.

It had been harder than he expected to get her to meet for brunch without Foggy. Matt had been quick to vouch for Marci’s character to Karen, but he still had a kernel of doubt. If there was any possibility that Marci had been caught up in this, he wanted to give her a chance to come clean herself and not immediately rat her out to Foggy.

“Let’s make this quick, Murdock,” she said when she arrived, dropping into the chair across from him before he had even opened his mouth to respond.

He didn’t beat around the bush. “It’s about a client,” he said. “Union—”

“I know what it’s about,” she sighed. “I knew there was a reason you and the nosy one were in my office last night. I would have called you on it right then and there, but you looked so into the tonsil hockey, I second-guessed myself.”

Matt chuckled sardonically. “So you know there’s something rotten going on.”

Marci was silent.

“If you know, you need to tell me. We need to blow the whistle on this. Karen’s got something, I’m not sure exactly what, but it’s going to end up in the Bulletin whether you help or not. And it’ll be much better for you if you help.” Matt leaned forward, his voice going soft. “Think about Foggy. He’s been through enough, with his dad and our firm and—”

Matt stopped talking as Marci took in a shaky breath. But when she spoke, her voice was firm, and cold as ice.

“You might think you have the superior credentials when it comes to loving and protecting Franklin P. Nelson,” she said, “but you’ve got nothing on me. I already have copies of everything. Insurance. I can get them to you by tonight. There’s no smoking gun, but if Page has other evidence, it’ll help connect the dots.”

A waiter appeared then, and Matt had a few minutes to process as Marci ordered a Bloody Mary and then sipped her water slowly.

He started to thank her, but she interrupted impatiently. “Did you know all along? Did you bring her to Foggy’s party just to help her get into my office?”

“What?” Matt said, surprised. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” The air moved as she shook her head. “I’m almost sorry for you, Murdock. Pretending to date you for the intel? That’s cold even by my standards.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he spluttered, but he felt a little queasy. Of course, he had been the one to propose the date to Karen. And the attack on Daniel Fisher hadn’t happened until after she agreed. But then he remembered the funny little skip in Karen’s heartbeat when she said no one knew why Fisher had been jumped in that alley.

His stomach sank. Was it _all_ an act? He’d flattered himself into thinking that she had agreed to the deal because of some underlying affection for him, since what she stood to gain was pretty insubstantial. But bringing down the rising star that was Union Allied Construction would be a career-changing feat. Maybe she’d had way more on the line than he thought all along.

* * *

Karen felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. The waiting was getting impossible. It had been more than 24 hours since Daniel Fisher was attacked and she worried that he would just never wake up. She found herself staring at his kind smile in the photo on the company’s website. She knew from her reporting that he had a wife and kids, though the family wasn’t talking to the press. She ached for them. If he had really risked his life to expose the corruption at his company, she owed it to him to get the story out at any cost.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried about how high that cost might be. Now that Matt was involved, her nervousness had increased exponentially. If something happened to her...well, she didn’t want to die, but it was completely different from the idea of something happening to Matt. She felt icy fear clutching at her throat.

But she shoved it all down and forced herself to spend her Saturday writing. Once Fisher woke up — and he _would_ wake up, he _had_ to — she wanted as much of the story ready to go as possible. There would be absolutely zero time to lose.

She found a rhythm — write a few hundred words, check her phones obsessively for updates from Matt’s meeting with Marci or from Claire Temple at Metro-General, do some additional research, write some more. She even found a forensic accountant who was willing to talk over the phone about some “hypothetical” questions to make sure her reading of the leaked document was on track.

Since getting the Bulletin job, Karen had often had reason to be grateful for the business classes she’d taken in college.

After...what happened with Kevin, and her dad’s insistence that she leave home, she thought the shittiest thing she could do to herself was go to another New England college town and get another crappy job in another crappy diner. It was pretty much all she was qualified for anyway, and she needed to eat.

And she might have just fallen back into drugs and despair, if it wasn’t for Marie Armbruster, the owner of the Silver Dollar Diner in Nowheresville, New Hampshire. She sat Karen down after a few months and told her she was fired from her waitress gig if she didn't start taking classes. And Karen still needed to eat, so.

It stopped her from drowning — but she still wouldn’t let herself live her dream and become an English major. Not when Kevin’s dreams were all dead and buried with him. So business it was. At first she thought she’d just get an associate’s degree, something that would let her do secretarial work. But she got a scholarship, so she kept going, and she ended up in a journalism elective her senior year.

And she realized there was a way to use what she was passionate about — and let’s face it, it wasn’t elevator pitches and business plans — to actually help people. Her first job out of school had been at a small town newspaper. But covering the cops beat there meant way too many tragic car accidents and domestic violence calls, and she’d jumped at the chance to string for a national publication during the next presidential election campaign. After months of sitting in stuffy New Hampshire school gyms and eating fried things at fairs and hearing the same stump speeches over and over until she thought her ears would bleed, she’d fled to Connecticut and the thrill of covering the insurance industry. OK, that had been pretty boring at first, until she’d broken the first major story of her career, which helped a group of sick people with terrible health coverage, and led to a multi-part series and some awards, which in turn caught the attention of editors in New York City.

And now she was on the verge of doing something even bigger, something that would expose fat cats who were stealing from taxpayers to make themselves richer — and willing to take a man’s life to keep doing it. There was no way she was going to stop.

After one last fruitless check of her phones, Karen knew it was time to head to the Bulletin happy hour. It seemed frivolous, but she really needed to see Matt, both to make sure he was OK and to find out if he’d gotten anything helpful out of Marci. He hadn’t been home all day. Not that she’d knocked on his door several times, just to check.

Bulletin happy hours were always at the same place — a restaurant called The Front Page that was mediocre but a Hell’s Kitchen institution nonetheless. It wasn’t very crowded when Karen arrived, so it was easy to see that Matt wasn’t there yet. Bart the metro editor waved her over to a table, and she tried not to spend the entire time he was talking to her staring at the door.

_Matt’s OK, Matt’s OK, Matt’s OK,_ she kept telling herself. But every minute that ticked by made it just a smidge harder to believe. She was shredding a napkin into teeny tiny pieces as she half-listened to the hum of conversation around her, when _oh thank god_ there he was, looking particularly gorgeous in a dark shirt with no tie, the stubble on his face thicker and doing a slightly better job of hiding the still-nasty bruise on his cheek. She was so relieved to see him that she lost all pretense of being chill, practically running to greet him and help him navigate through the tables.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said with a sheepish look. And she knew it was a terrible idea, but before her brain could quite stop her, she reached up to guide his chin with her hand and kissed him on the lips, softly and quickly, like it was something she did every day. It was so easy to imagine that she could.

Matt immediately stiffened and pulled away from her. He covered it with a smile, but she knew something was wrong. “What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “I take it your friend Tom is around?” She thought she heard a bit of bitterness in his words.

“What?” She hadn’t even noticed if Tom had shown up. But she couldn’t exactly tell her fake boyfriend that she had kissed him for real, just because she was so happy he was OK. So she changed the subject. “Never mind, forget that. How did it go with Marci?”

“Surprisingly well,” he said, but before he could go into the details, Karen heard Habiba screeching at her from across the restaurant. They’d been spotted.

Karen took Matt’s hand to lead him back to the table with the Bulletin staffers, just like she would have if they were actually dating.

“Karen Page!” Habiba said loudly. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone!” Karen swallowed, trying to keep her smile from shaking.

“This is my boyfriend, Matt,” she managed to say without stumbling too much, even when Habiba’s eyebrows went even higher. “Matt Murdock, Habiba Hassan.”

“I recognize the byline,” Matt said. “Your series on human trafficking was...well, heartbreaking, but incredibly informative.”

“Thank you.” Habiba’s gaze went to Karen, clearly communicating, _Where did you find this amazing specimen?_ “A loyal reader, then?”

“I’ll admit I was more of a Times guy, but since Karen moved in across the hall from me, I’ve become very devoted...to the Bulletin.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Muthoni said as she arrived.

“Matt, this is my editor, Muthoni. She makes all my stories actually readable.”

“Now, don’t be too modest, Page.” She looked at Matt, then back at Karen. “I thought I saw flowers on your desk yesterday. Now I think I know where they came from.”

“Oh, yes,” Karen said. She turned to Matt as Muthoni started greeting others at the table. “I’m not sure I ever actually said thank you,” she added softly. “They were lovely.”

“I liked the way they smelled,” he said, his voice low to match hers. “Fresh. Like the rain.”

She ran her thumb over his and leaned into him a little, remembering the way his hand had felt caressing her rain-slick skin. And for one sweet moment she could feel the electricity arcing between them, but then Matt pulled back.

And, ugh, what was she doing? She kept forgetting herself. He was not her boyfriend and he wasn’t going to be. The cab ride was just...But a part of her rebelled at her own attempt to minimize it. It had meant something. Something tender and unnameable.

Was it possible that Matt _knew? _Her gut twisted at the thought. No, she decided. If he’d learned the truth about her, he wouldn’t have come, or he would have at least said something.

But it was a reminder that whatever happened in that cab, no matter what it had meant to her, there was a very real reason she’d been pushing people away for years. Matt was good and sweet and so committed to doing the right thing. He deserved better.

She picked up a glass from the table, forcing herself to act like everything was fine.

“I took the liberty of ordering you a Macallan neat,” she said, letting go of his hand and putting the glass into it. “I, on the other hand, have some bright blue fruity concoction, courtesy of Bart from the metro desk, who wanted to thank me for helping out on the Daniel Fisher story. I haven’t been able to bring myself to try it yet.”

Matt was making a strange face at his glass. She was pretty sure she’d gotten exactly the same thing he ordered the night before, so she didn’t know what it meant. She lifted her own drink toward her mouth and was shocked when Matt dropped his cane and grabbed her elbow.

“Don’t drink that,” he hissed. “It’s been drugged.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Someone put something in our drinks,” he whispered. He handed his glass to her and retrieved his cane from the floor. She looked at both drinks skeptically.

“How do you…?”

“Just don’t drink anything,” Matt insisted. He stopped abruptly, his head tilting as if he was listening for something. “Call the police. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Wait, where are you going?” she said. “Matt, you’re scaring me.”

He reached out and touched her face. “It’ll be OK,” he said. "I'll keep you safe, Karen."

Then he turned and left, leaving her gaping behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Matt left the restaurant as quickly as he could and slipped into the alley running behind the building, knowing he would probably be too late.

He had given the impression that he was able to detect something off about his drink and Karen’s, but whatever was in their glasses had been imperceptible — at least without tasting it. No, what had caught his attention was a pair of voices in the alley outside, one asking the other how long it would take for the drugs to kick in.

“About 10, 20 minutes once they start drinking,” one voice said. “Stay cool.”

“I can’t believe I have to stab a goddamn blind guy,” the other complained heedlessly. “I should be getting paid at least double for this. How’m I gonna look my ma in the eye?”

Someone wanted him dead — and probably Karen, too. Matt had no doubt that it was connected to Union Allied. Karen obviously knew more than she was letting on.

And he knew he would do absolutely anything to keep her from getting hurt.

But, sure enough, he was too late to catch the men in the alley — their vehicle was already peeling out with a screech. He was about to head after them, but he was distracted by someone in heavy-sounding boots coming around the building. Of course, there would have been a lookout already stationed inside the restaurant, and he was trying to retreat as well.

The alley was dim — above, the sky was threatening another storm — but Matt still wished he had grabbed a cloth napkin or something to tie around his head. No time to worry about that now, though. He knocked Boots out as quietly as he could without allowing the guy to get a good look at him. When the man was slumped against the brick wall, Matt pulled Boots’ phone from his pocket. It might come in handy if his associates tried to contact him.

Matt tried to turn his attention to tracking the men driving the murdermobile yet again, but with a sinking feeling in his gut, he realized that yet another person had exited the restaurant and was walking quickly down the sidewalk.

Someone who was _supposed_ to be calling the police.

Karen.

* * *

Karen couldn’t call the police.

If someone was trying to drug her, they knew she had the Union Allied pension file. And if they knew she had the Union Allied pension file, then they would be looking for it. They might be drugging her to get her out of the way while they located it — and, she thought with a shiver, that was the least bad possibility for what they had planned.

While she was bogged down waiting for the police and filling out paperwork, they could be ransacking her apartment. She absolutely couldn’t lose her copy of the document — it was all she had. And if Daniel Fisher died, there might be no way to hold those corrupt assholes accountable without it.

Not to mention, if she called the police and told them her drink was drugged and her “boyfriend” had disappeared, they were definitely going to start looking for the wrong suspect.

So no cops. What she needed was to go home and get the file somewhere else, somewhere safer.

Karen was still standing where Matt had left her, holding both of the glasses. His abrupt departure seemed to have been missed amid the general happy din of her colleagues and the other restaurant patrons. It was much more crowded than when she’d arrived.

She turned and put both drinks on the table next to Habiba’s water glass.

“Karen? What’s going on?”

“I think these drinks have something weird in them,” she explained. “Matt...had a bad reaction. I need to go see if he’s OK, maybe get him to the hospital. Don’t let anyone drink these. And… well, do whatever you think is best.”

And she rushed out before anyone could stop her.

When Karen hit the street, she noticed the first splashes of raindrops onto the pavement. It was going to be another wet night in New York. She wasn’t surprised that there was no sign of Matt anywhere. She couldn’t imagine what could be going on with him. How did he realize their drinks had been tampered with? Why did he leave instead of staying to deal with it? What did he mean when he said he’d keep her safe? It was a nice sentiment, and a very large part of her wanted to believe him — maybe even _did_ believe him, trusting that steely certainty in his voice — but this wasn’t like pulling her out of the path of a red-light runner.

What kind of chance would he have against the kind of thugs who had put Fisher in a coma?

She thought about hailing a taxi, but being in a vehicle with someone she didn’t trust right now seemed like a very bad idea. There was more safety on the sidewalks with other pedestrians. She tried to stay calm, to walk like everything was normal, but she was moving at about three times her usual pace and she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting all around.

She expected at any second to be accosted, but she managed to make the relatively short walk back to her building without incident — except for the sky opening up and beginning to pour.

Once she was inside her apartment, Karen didn’t turn on any lights. It was thundering now, the rain gushing down the windows. She was wet and chilled and for a moment she remembered the quiet warmth of Matt’s arms on the cab ride home the night before.

But it was all up to her now. The only person she could trust to take care of Karen Page was Karen Page.

She made a beeline for the bathroom, where she’d hidden the file on a flash drive tucked away in an air-conditioning vent. The toilet creaked as she stepped onto it and the noise startled her. Her stomach was churning so hard she felt like she might throw up. She got the vent open, and for a second her fingers touched nothing but cold metal. She gasped, her brain going blank with panic. But there it was, just a few inches farther back.

She pulled it out in relief, clutching the plastic to her chest. All she could do now was go to the Bulletin and try to convince the editors to publish what she had, even without Fisher’s confirmation.

But she’d only taken about three steps when a hand grabbed her from behind.

She screamed.

* * *

Matt pulled his mask over his head as he raced through his apartment and out into the hallway. Karen had pushed open the door to her place just moments before, and there was a second heartbeat pumping away inside.

He heard her scuffling with someone bigger and heavier than she was, and then — _no_ — a sharp blade singing in the air. He rushed through the door, feeling rage lighting up his veins. If there was ever a time to let the devil out, he had found it.

He lost himself in the clarity of crunching bone and burning muscle, in the twisting, turning, brutal dance. His opponent was a trained fighter, his knife slicing with an accuracy that Matt could only just outmaneuver.

He grunted with each blow he landed; his mouth twisted with each blow he took. They scuffled on the floor, smashed into the walls, kicked and punched and slammed. And, finally, crashed.

Matt registered the sound before the pain of the broken glass. It tinkled all around them, the music of falling stars, and then the air had him, a flightless bird hurtling out into a sky he would never see.

* * *

It was all over by the time Karen got downstairs. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen — because it was really him, it was the Devil himself who had showed up to save her — had her attacker chained to the fire escape. He was lying on the ground in the rain-soaked alley, but as she watched, he stood up and retrieved the flash drive from the man’s pocket.

The Devil walked toward her slowly, then reached out and handed it to her. There was something in the way he carried himself that made her think he was upset about more than the fight. Even with the mask covering half his face, she could tell he was completely focused on her.

“You’re OK?” he said, lifting his hand to her cheek, exactly like Matt had done before he left the restaurant. It seemed like forever ago now, but it could have been only an hour at most.

Before she could answer, lightning flooded the alley, making it briefly bright as day. She stared at the Devil’s face, at the bruise she saw peeking out from under the mask on one cheek. The exact same bruise she’d seen somewhere else, on a face she had been staring at way too much over the last two nights. A face with those same sweetly curving lips and stubbled jaw.

And it didn’t make any sense at all, but she knew.

“Holy shit,” she said. “It’s you.”

* * *

Karen was gasping. “How…?”

She knew. She recognized him.

As the fight had gone on, Matt had needed to call upon all of his discipline, to become Stick’s good little soldier. But once the threat was handled, emotion had uncoiled from his stomach like a snake. Karen’s rapid pulse, the trace of her blood that he could still smell beneath the rain — it had overpowered him. He had gotten too close, he had touched her, he hadn’t been able to disguise his voice.

And she knew.

“It’s too dangerous for you to hold onto whatever that file is,” he said, as if his whole world wasn’t tilting on its axis.

“I know,” she said. “I’m going to take it to the Bulletin and see what I can get my editors to publish. But, Matt, I need you to explain to me how _this_ is possible.”

She brushed the edge of his mask with her fingertips. His breath caught.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he said. He needed time to figure out what he was going to tell her.

Karen’s head turned in the direction of the man who had attacked her. He was still unconscious, though his heartbeat was strong. “Is he…?”

“No. I don’t kill people,” Matt said grimly. “No matter what someone’s done, there’s always hope they can do better.” He turned around. “I’ll meet you upstairs. My place. I can call the police anonymously about him…and then we can talk.”

When he opened his apartment door a few minutes later, he wasn’t wearing the mask. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, either. He knew it wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but he was relieved to be done with hiding such a big part of himself from her. And if she rejected him, if this was all too much for her — well, what did it matter, really? They weren’t actually dating. And maybe it was foolish, given the less-than-perfectly-ethical lengths she was going to for her story, but he trusted her not to blow his cover. He knew she thought highly of the Devil, even if her feelings about him were less clear.

He was caught off guard when the first thing Karen did after the door closed was to hug him tightly. But he immediately realized he shouldn’t have been. She was shaking, the bitter smell of fear still dogging her. Even just coming up the stairs by herself had renewed her terror. They stood quietly for a second, dripping rain onto the floor.

“It’s OK,” he said. “You’re OK.”

“Thanks to you,” she said thickly. “If you hadn’t shown up—”

“But I did.”

“Did you hear the fight?” she asked, pulling away, her fear starting to fade as her curiosity picked up speed. “Or—”

“I followed you from the restaurant.”

“You were watching me?”

“No,” he said. “I can’t see. Not exactly.”

“What does that mean, not exactly?”

He explained it to her as simply as he could, the heightened senses, the childhood training, the decision to hide his abilities so as not to raise unanswerable questions.

“So your...senses told you our drinks were drugged?”

“They might have, but I heard the men behind it talking in the alley first.”

“The alley? Outside the restaurant? You could hear them from inside?”

He sighed.

“Wow, so right now, you can hear everything that’s happening out on the street? Your hearing is _that_ good?”

“Yes. And I know that surprises you because I can hear your heartbeat. I can hear it speeding up again,” he explained. “People’s heartbeats tell you a lot. When they’re nervous, when they’re lying.”

“And you always know? How I’m feeling?” She sounded embarrassed.

“No, not always,” he said, trying to be reassuring.

“And pretending to date me? That was...?”

“Actually about making partner,” he said, his lips turning up bashfully.

“And...that’s all it was?”

The tone of her voice made his mouth go dry. He thought maybe he should tell her just one more truth, but his pocket began to buzz and the moment snapped like a thread.

Karen’s own phone vibrated as he pulled out Boots’ cell. He handed that one to her, too. “What does it say?”

“The same thing mine does,” she said, letting out a long breath. “Daniel Fisher is awake.”

“That phone — I took it from one of the men at the restaurant,” he said. “They’re still after him.”

Karen’s voice was urgent. “They’re watching his hospital room. Matt, you’ve got to get me inside. This changes everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this entire story, and this chapter in particular, is an alternate, more shippy/tropey/silly version of Into the Ring. So you definitely should have recognized the scenes I ripped off!
> 
> Also, just in case it wasn't clear, Team Evil — knowing Karen had a copy of the pension file after she showed up at the hospital — was planning to kill Matt and frame Karen for his murder, a la canon, to discredit her.
> 
> The guy who was stationed at Karen’s apartment as part of that plan then attacked her when she went back for the file. And Baddy McBadderson would have probably gotten away with it if it weren’t for that pesky Devil! :D
> 
> (God, I’m so bad at plot!)


	8. Chapter 8

Karen walked up the stairs of her apartment building with smeary newsprint tucked under her arm, exhausted but satisfied after a hard night’s work.

The Devil had helped her bypass the layers of security outside Daniel Fisher’s room, and thankfully they hadn’t given the man himself a heart attack by coming in through the window. Despite his weakness, Fisher had been lucid enough to confirm everything, and Karen raced to the Bulletin to hit the deadline for Sunday’s edition. The night had only gotten better when Foggy Nelson showed up to hand-deliver a ream of Landman & Zack documents, wearing a ridiculous fake mustache and a stocking cap.

Karen had finished her story and right now it was being delivered to hundreds of thousands of subscribers all across the city, and even more readers online. A night that had started with an attempt on her life had ended pretty triumphantly.

Karen didn’t know how the Devil’s night had gone. She’d left Matt behind at the hospital, and she wondered if he was even at home now.

But the very moment her foot hit the top step, his door swung open and her question was answered. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and no glasses, and she was immediately filled to the brim with longing. She wanted to hug him again, to put her head down on the soft cotton and rest knowing down to her bones that she was safe, but she couldn’t. She had zero idea where they stood with each other now.

Matt was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and she was just someone he pretended to date. Well, and also the reporter whose byline sat smugly on the front page of the New York Bulletin, just below a screaming headline that told the whole world about the rottenness at Union Allied. She smiled through her weariness.

“Hey,” Matt said softly, and she walked through his door instead of her own.

“I stayed until the truck came in from Jersey with the early editions,” she said as she followed him down the hall. “I wanted to have it in print. Now I need a shower and a nap, and then I’m heading back in. The investigations editor wants to team me up with Ben Urich for more reporting.”

Just saying the words made her stomach flutter with excitement. The Saturday night duty editor had called Ellison in to give her story a final look before publishing. “This better be rock-solid,” Ellison said before beginning the hardest edit of her career. At the end, all she got was a gruff “You did good,” but she felt like she'd just been handed a Pulitzer.

“We haven’t even finished going through all of Marci’s documents,” she continued in a rush. “There will be plenty of follow-ups. We’ve already started hearing about really questionable stuff happening in the neighborhood that might be connected. I think Union Allied is just the start of something much, much bigger.”

“No,” Matt said. He looked pale, his brow furrowed. “You can’t keep going with this. Not after last night. Don't be stupid, Karen. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“C'mon, you know I can’t stop now. This is my job. I even thought that...maybe you could help? We were a good team at the hospital.”

“No, you can’t,” he said, his voice rising. “You can’t—“

“But you can? You’re not going to stop wearing that mask, are you?”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because you can throw a punch? Well, I can write, and that’s powerful too.”

“The police can—“

“The police can’t do shit, Matt. They were nowhere near this Union Allied mess and you know it. Rich assholes get away with stuff like this all the time. And I’d just like to note for the record the hypocrisy of you of all people telling me to leave it to the cops.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. You could've _died_ last night. I don't want you to ever be in that kind of danger again.”

It was nice, in a way, that he thought of her as someone who deserved protection. And when it came right down to it, it wasn't like he could stop her from doing anything she damn well pleased. But maybe it would be better for him to understand who she truly was. Maybe the right thing to do was to burn this all to the ground before it could get any more painful.

Didn’t she owe him the truth if he was risking his own precious life to save hers?

"I wasn’t a fan of the danger, either,” she said. “I was terrified. But nothing you can say will ever convince me to stop." She shook her head. "You're not the only one who's been hiding things, Matt."

"What do you mean?"

"You...Your big, terrible secret is that use your fists every night to—to save people’s lives. And you refuse to kill anyone. Well, I’m not like you. I did take a life. I—I killed my own brother in a car crash because I was high and—and drunk—and—"

“Oh, Karen,” he said and the sound of his voice almost made her crumble, but she forced herself to go on.

"I...I don’t deserve to be alive," she said. "So if I die doing this... All I know is that I can’t stop now. I'll never make up for what I did, but I have to—I have to try."

She didn’t want to look up and see his reaction — the shock and disgust that would be written on his face as the truth sunk in.

She had to get away. She made it all the way down the stairs and back out into the pearly morning light before the tears overflowed.

* * *

Matt collapsed into his bed after Karen left, seeking a comfort he knew he wouldn’t find. He wanted to go after her, but she’d been silently screaming for him to leave her alone, and he figured he should respect that.

He closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to carry him away for a while. He’d spent the night keeping vigil on the hospital roof until Karen’s story was published. Then the police kicked out the private goons and upped their own security. The NYPD wasn’t always reliable, but Brett Mahoney was on the scene, and Matt knew through Foggy that he was the real deal. And now that everything was public, Matt doubted whoever had been calling the shots at Union Allied would try to tie up any loose ends with Fisher. Too risky.

He had his own loose ends to tie up, however. The men from the murdermobile were still on the loose. Matt was hoping to start tracking them down after nightfall, though he would need some help with Boots’ phone. Anyone who had tried to hurt Karen should be behind bars.

_Karen_.

He wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else. Her painful words kept echoing until they’d carved themselves into his heart. She had clearly been suffering for so long over what she had done. It made him want to hold onto her and never let go.

All the tossing and turning and pillow-punching in the world wasn’t going to help him sleep. Not when home smelled like her.

His emotions were getting the best of him again. They had last night when Karen discovered the Devil’s identity. They had again today, when the out-and-out panic that went through him at the thought of her in danger again made him...well, a little overbearing. And led to another secret coming out.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, though. Maybe emotion and connection could be better, could make him better. Maybe it wasn’t enough to live half a life.

There was comfort for him out there in this city if he wanted it. And for once the thought of wallowing in his apartment alone all day didn’t seem like the superior option. He wouldn’t even need to ask for anything, he knew. All he had to do was show up.

He got dressed and headed out into the sunny calm that had followed the storm, though he could still hear the thunder in his head as he knocked on Foggy and Marci’s door.

“Speak of the devil!” Foggy said as he opened it, his voice pure giggle. “We were just talking about you.”

Foggy hugged him and Matt could feel himself getting swept up into warmth already. His shoulders relaxed just a bit. Foggy led him farther into the apartment, then took his cane and put a glass into his hand. It was delicate — a champagne flute.

“Hi,” Marci said, with a rueful laugh that Matt couldn’t quite interpret. He returned her greeting uncertainly.

“We’re celebrating!” Foggy said, picking up a bottle. The bubbly fizzed into his glass as Foggy poured. Before Matt could ask what exactly they were toasting, Foggy raised his glass.

“Congratulations, Marci Stahl, on your termination!”

Marci sighed loudly, not matching Foggy’s enthusiasm.

“What?” Matt said.

“Oh, Landman and Zack canned the entire Union Allied team as soon as Karen’s story was out. They’re trying to cover their asses. And obviously, I can’t work for a firm that would fire my fiancée so infamously — and, y’know, actively cover up criminal activity — so I’ll be tendering my resignation first thing tomorrow. So much for making partner.”

Matt tried to take it all in, but words failed him.

“So that’s why we were talking about you,” Foggy went on. “We have a proposition for you, buddy.”

Marci cut in. “Let’s face it. Neither of us wants to grovel all over town to try to get the same shitty job at a different shady firm.”

“So,” Foggy said — and a smile was already starting to spread across Matt’s face — “what would you say to giving our own firm another try, this time with twice as much Nelson?”

“I’m keeping my name after the wedding, Foggy Bear,” Marci reminded him.

“I know, but you’ll still be a legal member of the Nelson family. You’ll know the secret handshake and everything. So that’ll make two Nelsons and one Murdock. If he’s in.”

Matt felt their attention on him. He cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “Well, we’ll have to work out the details, but I think I can be persuaded.”

Foggy let out a whoop and Matt grinned.

“I think with three of us and a whole bunch more experience under our belt, this is going to be a smashing success,” Foggy said. “Now hold your glass up, Matty, so we can clink it.”

Matt happily complied. The thought of bringing Nelson & Murdock back to life was so thrilling that he didn’t even mind that Marci was part of the bargain — he quite liked the idea, in fact, though he might not admit that publicly. Still, they would have a lot to consider and work out, and the Devil would definitely have to be in those details.

He sat down to drink his champagne and tried not to overthink anything yet.

“How’s your girlfriend, by the way? Karen must be on top of the world today.”

This time, Matt smiled with difficulty. “It’s OK, Foggy,” he said. “Marci knows she’s not really my…” He didn’t want to have to say it.

“Well, you’re officially making partner today with Nelsons and Murdock — just trying something out, we’ll workshop it,” he said, and Matt wondered if both he and Marci had made a face. “So mission accomplished, right? Now you can ask her out for real.”

Matt ran his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. Marci stood up.

“I’m going to...go down to the bodega and get some orange juice! We should have mimosas with all this champagne.”

When she’d left, Foggy’s hand landed on Matt’s shoulder. “You OK? What happened with Karen?”

“She knows,” Matt said. “About the mask.”

“That’s great! Now you don’t have to worry about keeping some big secret from her.”

“Except I think I blew it. I said some things that upset her, and she told me something...painful about herself.” His chest burned like he’d just filled his lungs with winter air. “I’m not sure she’ll want to be around me again.”

“Well, she might be thinking the same thing about you,” Foggy said thoughtfully. “So what do you want?”

Matt licked his lips and leaned back in his chair, tilting his face toward the ceiling as he sighed.

* * *

Karen waited until she was literally falling asleep over her laptop to finally call it a night. She logged off and stood up, stretching before starting to cross the mostly quiet newsroom back to her desk. They had set her up at a temporary station right outside Ben’s office for the duration of their investigation, so she could communicate more easily with him and Ellison.

She was worried that Ben might try to give her a hard time as the junior partner, but when he arrived that morning, he’d complimented her work and got right down to business. They had worked the phones all day and written two follow-up stories for Monday’s paper based on the remaining details from Marci’s documents and their latest interviews.

Karen was running on caffeine fumes at this point. The only sleep she’d gotten had been an odd hour on the lumpy, ancient break room couch that she would have avoided under any other circumstances. She was happier about the fact that she always kept a change of comfortable clothes and shoes at the office, just in case of emergencies. So at least she hadn’t been in yesterday’s outfit all day — the one that had gotten rain-soaked and bloody and stiff.

A shower still would have been nice, but she had given up that opportunity when she ran out of her apartment building. Karen shut down that train of thought immediately. She was resolutely not thinking about what happened that morning.

When Karen got closer to her desk, she was surprised to see Muthoni typing away at hers. But she was glad to see her editor’s familiar face. “What are you doing here?”

Muthoni nodded slightly and completed whatever sentence she was in the middle of. Then she looked up. “I had some things to finish before we jump into another cycle on this. We’re expecting big fallout when the market opens tomorrow. I’m putting Julie on it so you can keep focusing on the criminal angle.”

“Thanks,” Karen said, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a yawn.

“I’m going to miss you around here,” Muthoni said.

“It’s just across the newsroom,” Karen countered with a smile, “and it’s just temporary.”

“I don’t think it’ll be temporary, Page. I’m proud of you. I told you it was worth practicing free throws. You just sank a full-court shot at the buzzer.”

Karen laughed and ducked her head, embarrassed.

“Seems like that boyfriend of yours is OK? After those drinks?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine.” Karen felt her cheeks grow hot and her smile fade at the mention of Matt. She had worked hard to block out thoughts of him all day, but now his sweet face loomed up in her mind. She wasn’t looking forward to going home. What would happen now? Would they go back to being awkward almost-strangers in the hallway? How could she see him all the time and not always wish…

“I hope he’s well enough to take you out for a celebratory dinner soon.” Muthoni had a knowing smile on her face.

“I...I don’t know if we’ll be seeing each other anymore, actually,” Karen said softly.

“Does he know that?” Muthoni gestured behind her. Karen moved to get a better look at her desk and saw red. Another bouquet of tulips. She covered her mouth with her hand.

Karen walked the rest of the way to her desk in a daze, her heart tripping all over itself.

_I’m sorry_, the card read. _And I wanted to send these for real. I want it all to be real._

* * *

Matt tensed when he heard Karen’s footfalls reach the last step before the sixth floor. He wanted to open his door the way he had in the morning, but he didn’t. He wasn’t going to force her to interact with him if she didn’t want to.

The only secret left between them now was how she felt about him. And if she needed to, she could keep it.

Her steps were hesitant in the hallway and he started to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching.

But she was coming closer and then—a knock at the door.

He tried not to run for it. She might just be stopping by to tell him no. Her story was public now, and she’d asked for the Devil’s help going forward, but she wouldn’t have any real need for Matt Murdock.

He swallowed it all down, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Karen just stood there, though he thought she was shaking just a little. Finally, she moved her hand like she was waving something around in the air.

“Do you—do you really mean this?”

He reached up to touch it and encountered the heavy cardstock that would come with a bouquet of flowers. Then he took her hand and pulled her into the apartment, feeling a tingle run all the way up to his shoulder.

When the door was closed, he did his best to look her in the face as he said, “Of course I mean it.”

“Even after...what I told you?” She sounded conflicted, despair and hope all mixed together.

“You told me that you made a mistake that you are desperately trying to make up for. And you’ve shown me that you’re the bravest person that I know.”

“Don’t you mean stupidest?” He heard the weak smile in her voice.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I just—I care about you, Karen.” He breathed in. “I know you agreed to all this because of your story. But I wanted to tell you.”

“Matt,” she said softly, swaying nearer. “Yes, I agreed partly because of my story, but...it was always more than that.” Her face was very close to his now. “It was always real for me.”

He was smiling so much that he couldn’t even kiss her properly at first. But eventually they managed it, and he focused solely on her — on her lips moving against his, on her fingers sliding over the back of his neck.

The world dropped away, all the clutter in his head went clear, and he thought that maybe it took a man with the devil inside to truly appreciate this kind of grace.

* * *

"I need to thank you, by the way," Matt said when they had settled into each other's arms on the couch. Karen had her eyes closed and her head on Matt’s shoulder. She was very weary, but she wanted this all to keep happening, for this happiness bubbling out of her to keep unfolding and expanding.

“Hmm...what for?” she asked dreamily.

"You helped me make partner."

Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him in surprise. "You did? Already? Are you sure you really want to work for—"

"Not at Landman and Zack," he clarified. He chuckled with delight. "Foggy and Marci want to give Nelson and Murdock another shot, thanks to your story. I think we might actually make it work this time."

"That's fantastic," Karen said, snuggling in closer. "I'm so happy for you. L and Z is the worst. Though I will miss that rooftop terrace."

"I can take you to any rooftop in the city, Ms. Page. Just say the word."

He pressed his lips against her forehead and she smiled, thinking about what a wild ride it was going to be, dating the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. It would probably be dangerous and certainly complicated, but she wasn't one to shy away from those things.

And she realized suddenly that the Karen on that other world, the one she hoped had always been safe and happy, wouldn't really be a match for Matt Murdock. Not this Matt, the one she'd seen fighting last night. The one who, like her, had some dark drive inside, something crusading and consuming and always clawing to get out.

She thought that maybe they could help each other. But she would think about that more later, when her brain was sharper.

For now, well, Matt didn't have such perfect lips for nothing. So she kissed him.

And she planned to keep on kissing him — tomorrow and the next day and the one after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [irelandhoneybee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irelandhoneybee/pseuds/irelandhoneybee) and [Quietshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietshade/pseuds/Quietshade) for their cheerleading and support on this! And if there's anyone else out there still reading, thanks to you too!


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